|Hoodlum. Total hoodlum.|
I slowly lowered my head on the mat and took a deep breath.
Then that little stinker threw her Minnie Mouse car at my head.
It hit me in the nose. I could feel a bump already forming. I bit my tongue (to stop from yelling Motherf!!!!) so hard it bled.
Seriously. Who does that?
I went from bliss to rage in about a millisecond. Blind, vein popping rage. Chloe screamed. I stuck her in time out. She threw more things. I fumed. Then after two minutes (1 minute per year of life, right?!), we regrouped. I super-nannied her with eye contact, explanations and of course, a hug.
Everything was fine, again. Our mats were right where we left them. Waiting for us, like always. And we returned to our practice.
Our whole lives are exactly like this. Long moments of bliss. Days of content. Months of happiness. Years of joy. But there are those blimps in between--those long pauses of discord. Those years of strife. Months of worry. Days of anxiety. We struggle through. Like my yoga practice today, our lives are constantly interrupted.
And then, like magic, we go right back where we were before--to the contentment, to the good stuff. We always go back--because that is our true nature--to be at peace. This time on earth--it is about the practice.
We practice perfection and bliss. Then we are interrupted by challenges. Then we practice again. As I sit at my desk--Chloe is drawing on the walls (sobeit), Henry is chewing a marker (oh well), and I am rubbing the new bump on my nose. It is all good. Our mats are always waiting. There is still more practice to be done.